Big, Happy Family
by WWEChickXD1
Summary: When it comes to the relationships of the WWE Superstars backstage, the best way to describe it is one big, mostly happy family - with lots of 'dads' and LOTS of 'kids.' WARNING - contains disciplinary spanking of adults.
1. Intro

~ Intro ~

To the WWE Universe, the young, uprising Superstars may seem like they own the joint, but in reality, it's very much the opposite - in one phrase, the best way to describe the WWE Superstars would be a big, surprisingly happy family.

If the younger Superstars were to speak to their elders as they do when they put on a show, they would have been soundly spanked. I'm not kidding you - it's a fairly normal occurrence backstage. Disrespect, disobedience, and any other act of bad-doing is swiftly taken care of with a sound spanking by the elder Superstars. By the elder Superstars, I mean:

Vince McMahon

Paul Levesque (Hunter, Triple H)

Shawn Michaels

Mark Callaway (The Undertaker)

Steve Austin

Dwayne Johnson (The Rock)

Theodore Long

Robert Huffman (Booker T)

Jerry Lawler

Jim Ross

Adam Copeland (Edge)

It may seem harsh in a way, but the elder Superstars do it to ensure they will be able to take care of themselves and not get into trouble when their gone. The younger Superstars even come to appreciate sometimes. Keyword - 'sometimes.'

The following chapters are just a few of the tales of the crazy happenings between the WWE Superstars.

~ Enjoy ~


	2. So Dead

Chapter 1 - So Dead

Character Focus - Dolph Ziggler; Shawn Michaels (not slash)

WARNING - CONTAINS SPANKING.

I am so dead.

So, SO dead.

I hadn't meant to drop him so stiff - honestly, I thought I had him in the right position for a perfect suplex...

...apparently, I hadn't.

He gave me that look; that look that made my stomach turn with guilt and nervousness. We had ended the match a bit quicker than planned - I could tell his shoulder was in pain. At least it hadn't hurt his back - THAT would have ensured my butt was history. Maybe he'd give me a little mercy. He pinned me, and I 'stormed off,' pretending to be totally pissed about losing the match. But in reality, I was glad to get out of there. I looked back at the Showstopper before disappearing backstage, and I could see the anger radiating off of him.

So dead.

* * *

I watched Dolph leave the ring in a hurry, obviously worried about what I was going to do to him. I almost laughed - I wasn't _that _mad at him. He was probably beating himself up inside, convincing himself that I was going to kill him. I massaged my should for a second before making a round around the ring, high-fiving the fans and signing one little girl's poster. I couldn't help myself - she reminded me of Cheyenne.

I planned to talk to Dolph about paying more attention during his matches, but by the way he'd been acting, I had a bad feeling that he was going to try and defend himself, which would probably lead him to say something disrespectful, which would most likely end up with him receiving a spanking. I sighed - definitely not looking forward to this.

* * *

Why was I hiding in the janitorial closet again?

Oh yeah. Avoid certain doom.

I knew it was stupid and quite frankly, childish, to be hiding from Shawn, but what else was I going to do? Confront him? Apologize? I had nothing to apologize for – it's not like I had botched the suplex on purpose. He had no right to be upset. And I had nothing to hide from. I opened the door of the small, foul smelling closet and boldly stepped out into the hallway, and bumped into none other than Shawn Michaels. He looked at me, one eyebrow raised, arms crossed.

"I've been looking for you for 5 minutes," he said, annoyance in his voice.

"Oh… really?" I said, totally trying to play it cool. I had a feeling I wasn't doing too well. "Why?"

He dropped his arms in disbelief. "Are you serious?"

I swallowed hard, but shrugged. Shawn huffed in frustration.

"All right, I'll play this little game of yours. I was looking for you because I wanted to talk to you about the importance of PAYING ATTENTION during a match, Dolph."

"What, like a lecture?" I scoffed, suddenly feeling a little too much self-confidence. "I don't need a lecture on focusing in my matches, Shawn, I do just fine, thank you."  
"Oh yeah? Then why the heck did you drop me on my shoulder?" he asked angrily.

"It was an accident, man, it happens – it's not like you've never botched a move in your life."

"Of course I have. Because I wasn't paying attention."  
"I don't need this," I told him, turning around to leave.

I hadn't anticipated the five hard, well-placed swats to my backside, or being spun back around to face the now-furious Shawn Michaels.

"Cut the attitude, son, or you'll be feeling my belt next," he growled. I said nothing, and just nodded, shocked at the sudden actions of the Heartbreak Kid. "You're getting arrogant, Dolph," he continued, "and arrogance is not a good thing to give in to. You've seen my old matches – I was the most arrogant son of a gun in the business, and I started really hurting the people around me, both physically and verbally. Do you know where all my arrogance got me?" He paused and waited for an answer. I shrugged once more. He answered for me. "Right across the knee of my 'bodyguard,' Kevin Nash. He spanked me every night for a week, and believe me, my arrogance was LONG gone, and the stuff you saw on TV was all an act."

I looked down at my feet, feeling both guilty for being disrespectful to Shawn for no good reason, and ashamed for letting my arrogance get the best of me. He didn't say anything for a few moments, so I looked back up at him, expecting to see anger – but I was surprised to see compassion, and even a little sympathy.

"Let's go, kid."

* * *

I certainly hadn't expected Dolph to be so defiant, and I _certainly _wasn't going to let him continue to talk to me in such disrespect. The icing on the cake, so to say, was when he tried to walk away from me in the middle of our little dispute. I immediately grabbed his arm and placed five hard swats to his backside. It shocked him to say the least, not that it was the first time I'd ever swatted him before or anything, just that I'd done it so suddenly. I was glad that no one else was in the hall at the time, because I knew how embarrassed Dolph could get about these situations.

I proceeded to tell him about my own troubles with arrogance back in the days before I was saved by Jesus. It was short and to the point, and definitely got the kid's attention. When I was done, he looked sick with guilt. My anger slowly melted away, and I loosened my grip on Dolph's arm slightly. I didn't want to spank him, but it was important that I did; if I didn't, two things would happen: he would continue to carry guilt, which felt _awful, _and he would keep getting more and more arrogant. He looked up at me, his eyes a little nervous, but also desperately begging for forgiveness. And I planned to give it to him.

"Let's go, kid."

* * *

DAMN IT. Why did I have to open my big mouth? I could've gotten away scott-free if I would have just kept my stupid mouth shut. Shawn led me to his locker room, his hand still holding onto my arm. It wasn't like he was dragging me along, though, more like he was trying to offer some comfort. It definitely helped, though I was still pretty freaking nervous – I hadn't been spanked for close to two months now, and I was _very _nervous. I knew he wasn't going to hurt me, though… not, like, permanently, at least.

The man wasted absolutely NO time in taking a seat on the bench, pulling me over his knee and tugging down my wrestling trunks. I squeezed my eyes shut and buried my face in my arms, and I didn't have to wait long for the first smack to come. I was determined not to make any noise, so I bit down on my lip, **hard. **He was about 15 swats in when tears started spilling over, and suddenly Shawn stopped.

"Dolph?" he said, sounding worried and suspicious.

"Yes?" I said, my voice cracking.

"Let me see your lip immediately, young man."

It was at that moment that I tasted blood. _F***, _I thought to myself. Hesitantly I lifted my head and turned to look at him. My heart crumbled into a million, tiny little pieces when I saw his worried expression turn into a sort of panicked one. He tugged my trunks back into place and lifted me off his knee sat me on the bench. He rushed into the bathroom and grabbed a towel, dampened it, then proceeded to clean the blood of my lip.

"How many times have we told you _not _to bite your lip?" he scolded. I avoided eye contact with him – I felt even guiltier than before. After he was done, he immediately flipped me back over his knee. I whimpered, much to my horror, but I didn't say anything – I really wanted all this damn guilt to be gone and for Shawn to forgive me.

* * *

I swatted him much harder this time. At the twentieth swat, Dolph was sobbing, but still squirming. I lifted my knee and aimed at his sit spots, and after ten swats there, he was lying limply across my lap, sobbing his poor heart out. I knew it was time to bring this spanking to a close, so I gave him five last swats, and lowered my knee back to its regular position. I rubbed calming circles on his back, muttering things like, "It's okay, son, you're forgiven – everything's okay. Shh, calm down, Dolph, you're all right."

When his heart-wrenching sobs lessened into soft cries, I lifted him off my knees and sat him on my lap, careful to make sure that his bottom made no contact with my thighs. He rested his head on my shoulder, which was now feeling much better, and cried softly for a few minutes before saying, "I'm all forgiven, right?"

I smiled as I stroked the brightly bleached hair. "Of course, kid, you're all forgiven."

* * *

I sighed with relief when Shawn assured me that I was forgiven. He really was like a father to me, and I really appreciated all he was doing for me – even when it ended with a _really _sore bottom. I couldn't help but laugh through my tears when he asked, "You want some ice cream?"

He even knew my one weakness, like a real father would.

I nodded, and after washing up, we left the arena in search of the delicious dairy treat.

_**The End ~**_

_**Stay tuned for more! Please review! **_

_**Who do YOU think should be the next character focus?**_

_**. Triple H/Shawn Michaels (Oooo, what did Shawn do?)**_

_**.Jerry Lawler/Miz (We all saw that coming lol)**_

_**.Edge/Christian (Brothers always look out for each other, no matter what.)**_

_**Thank you for reading!**_

_**~Rebecca **_


	3. What Brothers Are For

Chapter 2 - 

Character Focus: Adam Copeland (Edge); Jason Reso (Christian) - (not slash)

WARNING – CONTAINS SPANKING

* * *

I shook my head sadly as I watched my best friend throw another fit on live television over that stupid championship. Don't get me wrong, I've been pretty crazy over the World Title before too, but that was a long time ago, and I'd matured since then – I thought Jason had too. I ran my hand threw my hair, wondering what I was going to do. There was no way I was going to let Jay continue like this; he was a great person, and the gold was starting…well, continuing to eat away at his great personality. I looked over at the clock, which read '6:15.' I could get to the arena before Raw ended, since it was in my current home town. I grabbed my black leather jacket, slipped on some shoes, grabbed my keys and headed out the door.

I didn't care what I had to do to get through to him, just as long as I could get my best friend back. This whiney, bitchy Jason was NOT the Jason I was used to.

I just hoped he didn't hate me in the end of all this.

* * *

I sighed angrily as I walked into my locker room. Stupid Randy – refusing to give me a shot at MY rightful championship. He shouldn't be the World Heavyweight Champion, I should. I sighed again before running some cool water over my face to try and calm myself. I looked in the mirror, and sighed for the third time in about a minute. This was one of those times when I really wished Adam was around. He had a way of calming me down unlike any other Superstar on the roster. He was also my best friend, and more importantly, my brother, even if we did have different blood.

"You look exhausted," a voice said. My brain registered its owner immediately, and I slowly turned around to look into the face of the very person I'd just been thinking of.

"Am I seeing things now?" I chuckled. "I was just wishing you were here!"

Adam grinned from ear to ear and we hugged.

"Haven't seen you in a while, bro," I said, clapping him on the shoulder.

"Yeah, but I've been seeing you," he said, no longer grinning. "What's going on with you, man?"

"What do you mean?"

"Your attitude, Jay. It stinks."

I scoffed at him. "Are you serious? Says the Rated R Superstar."

"I know, I'm not saying I'm perfect – I'm just saying that you should get an attitude adjustment."

"I'll call John Cena," I said, rolling my eyes. This wasn't what I needed right now.

* * *

Jay was making this difficult. I kept my temper in check, but I didn't know how long it was going to last. He turned around to go do who-knows-what, but I grabbed his arm and turned him back towards me.

"We're not done here, Jason," I said, anger seeping into my tone. "What's going on?"

"Nothing is 'going on,' Adam," he said, yanking his arm out of my grip. I narrowed my eyes at him, but he kept getting angrier.

"Who the hell do you think you are, huh?" he continued. "Coming here to, what, lecture me on my attitude? You're my best friend, Adam, not my damn father."

"You're right, Jay, I'm not your father – I'm your brother," I said, getting in his face. "More accurately, I'm your big brother, even if we have totally different blood, and I am NOT letting you throw your career away just because you're upset about losing the title!"

"You don't understand! I only held it for five freaking days!"

"I know that! And it's stupid, I understand that! But you're an adult, so deal with it like one, not like a whiney little kid who didn't get his way."

He glared at me then turned around once again. And, once again, I grabbed his arm and made him face me.

"If you do that one more time, Jason, I am going to spank the daylights out of you," I told him in a completely no-nonsense tone. I probably would have laughed at his expression if we weren't so tense at that moment.

* * *

Did he just say what I think he said?

No. No, no no no no, he wouldn't… would he? I mean… he'd done it before, but… I'm 38, for crying out loud! He hadn't done that since the Brood days. What gives him the right to…do that? I didn't even want to _think _the word.

"Yeah right," I said, cursing inwardly at how unsure my voice sounded.

"Do NOT tempt me."

I huffed impatiently. "What do you _want _from me, Adam?"

He shook his head. "I want you to lose your awful attitude."

"Maybe I don't want to." I said defiantly.

Suddenly, Adam let go of my arm and walked towards the door. At first I thought he was going to leave, which made me feel sad and relieved, but he only closed and locked the door. Sh*t. I backed away as he advanced, but I stumbled and just about fell on my butt. He caught me, and held me at arms length for a moment before saying, "Last chance."

"Let go of me," I said, struggling to get out of his hold. I heard him sigh, then suddenly, I was over his knee. What the hell? How did he do that so damn fast?

* * *

I forgot how much of a struggler Jay was. I trapped his legs under my right leg and held his right wrist with my left hand. I held back a grin when I realized he hadn't changed at all in the 13 years since he'd last been in this position. I knew he never really benefitted from a spanking from my hand, so I allowed him to keep his wrestling tights on and removed my belt from its loops. Jay heard the familiar sound of leather rubbing against jean and started protesting vocally.

"Adam! Stop!" he yelled, trying desperately to squirm off of Adam's lap.

"Jay, I'm just gonna throw it out there – the locked door can keep people out, but it can't keep sounds in."

He groaned loudly and stopped yelling, back that didn't stop him from being a pain. I brought my belt down hard on his ass, causing him to yelp and started squirming even more than before, if possible. I gave him three more licks in quick succession, each a little lower than the one before. 6 strokes later, my poor brother had given into heart-wrenching sobs, and lied limp over my lap.

"I-I'm s-soooo sorry," he sobbed into his arms.

"Just four more, Jay," I said, rubbing calming circles on his back. I lifted my knee, making his sit spots much more vulnerable, and quickly ended Jay's punishment with four hard licks. He sobbed even harder, and I hated myself so much, even more than I had during the whole Lita debacle. I tossed my belt behind me and lifted my sobbing little brother off my lap. I made sure not to let his bottom touch anything as I held him close to my chest, not even minding that his plentiful tears were soaking my favorite shirt.

"Adam?" he said quietly, his loud, frantic sobs now quieted down to occasional, soft sobs.

"Yeah, Jay?" I said, giving him a small squeeze.

"I…do you forgive me?"

"Of course," I assured him. "You wanna tell me why you've been acting out lately?"

He was silent for a moment. "I dunno."

"I think you do, Jay."

Jason sniffled before answering. "I guess I just missed having you around. Nobody gives me the attention you do anymore."

"Jason, Jason, Jason," I said, shaking my head. "You did _all _this because you were a little lonely?"

"Not a little, Adam, a lotta lonely," he said. I smiled at how much of a kid he sounded like. I made a decision right then.

"I'll tell you what, Jay," I said, "Vince has been wanted me to work some angle on RAW for a while now – I'll accept it if, and ONLY if, you promise to try and behave?"

He jerked from my grasp and looked at me with wide, glazed over, happy eyes. "You mean it?"

"'Course," I said, laughing at his expression. "I'd never lie to you, you know that."

He hugged me tight, and I was only happy to hug him back.

I had really missed my little brother.

* * *

**Thank you to 'KaneLovesTristen' and 'Ria of the woodlands' for reviewing my story! I'm glad you liked it so much! This one was written by request of KaneLovesTristen, so the next will be for Ria – Miz/Lawler! Just so we're clear, my stories will never be meant as slash. Not that I'm not a fan, just that's not what these are about.**

**Review Review Review!**

**~Rebecca**


	4. Daddy Issues

Chapter 3 – Daddy Issues

Character Focus – Mike Mizanin; Jerry Lawler 

WARNING – CONTAINS SPANKING 

Sometimes I wonder why God had to make me so….so…. _dense. _So slow to realize something is wrong. Like earlier tonight on Raw.

Monday Night Raw had started off normal enough – Michael Cole and I made our usual jabs at each other, most in good humor, and then the show started. The only difference, really, was the fact that it was my 61st birthday, and I was in a better mood than usual. Most people around my age dreaded birthdays, but I've learned to enjoy them – who knows, it could be my last!

Near the beginning of the show, Mike (or 'The Miz') came out, flaunting around his title and bragging about his awesomeness. I like Mike, he's a great kid. Don't get me wrong, he definitely has his moments, but he has a good heart, even though his character was exactly the opposite. That's why it surprises me that he plays The Miz so well. Tonight was going to be a historic night – as a sort of 'birthday present,' Vince was giving me a championship match. I wasn't going to win, but that was fine with me – I had never been given a championship match before in my WWE/WWF career. I noticed Mike was kind of hesitant in going into this match. I was curious, but I didn't ask him about it.

The weird part about this whole situation was when I ran into him in the Gorilla. RAW was on in ten minutes, and I needed to get down the announce table with Michael. I smiled and asked if he was ready for the show, to which he just shrugged and stared into space.

"Mike?" I asked. "Are you okay, bud?"

He bristled noticeably at the term 'bud,' something he'd never done before, so I should've known immediately something was wrong. I ignored it, something I'm really regretting. I know it hurt him – he was obviously (unintentionally) looking for consolation with something that was going on.

Like I said before – DENSE.

Long story short, he went off script and refused to give me a shot at his title. I kept waiting for him to give in and agree to my challenge, but he never did. The look of pure defiance puzzled and infuriated me; puzzled because I had no idea what the hell had gotten into him, and infuriated at how openly defiant he was being. He could screw up the whole show if he wasn't careful. Finally, the lights blinked, and the 'Anonymous Raw GM' reversed the Miz's decision and made the match official. He stormed off backstage, and I followed at a distance, both to get ready for the match and to find out what the hell was going on with the kid.

* * *

I don't know why I was so angry at Jerry. It's not his fault my life is spinning out of control. I guess I had hoped someone would have noticed that I haven't been myself lately, and the fact that no one has stepped up yet really pisses me off. I'm a pretty nice guy; I'm friends with most everybody backstage. Even the stage crew. So shouldn't at least _one person _realize I'm going through a total mental crisis? Maybe I'm not as good as a think I am… am I even _worth _worrying over?

The same thoughts kept running through my head, about me being worthless and stupid to think that anybody would care enough to worry about me, and pretty soon I had completely convinced myself that I was a cheap piece of crap that people dealt with because I was 'nice.'

Someone knocked on my door. I suddenly decided I didn't want any sympathy from anyone, so I plastered on a fake smile and opened the door to a very bewildered King.

* * *

I definitely wasn't expecting the smile on Mike's face when he answered the door. I stared at him for a moment until I saw his smile falter for a quick second, and I immediately knew he was faking it. _Poor kid, _I thought to myself. _Must be pretty bad. _

"Why did you go off-script?" I asked him.

"I thought it would get a better reaction from the crowd," he said nonchalantly, "everybody likes to see the Miz get pissed off." He ended his sentence with a slight chuckle, which to the untrained ear sounded like a totally normal chuckle. But I'd been around many young Superstars in my career, and I caught the hint of uncertainty – I knew immediately he was lying.

"Uh-huh," I said, crossing my arms and narrowing my eyes. "You want to try that again?"

"No," he replied. We held each other's gaze for a few moments, the tension in the air so thick you could cut it with a knife.

"If you don't mind, Jerry, I should start getting ready…" he started, but I cut him off with, "You are not going _anywhere _until you and I straighten things out, young man."

He was silent for a moment before taking the same stance, arms crossed and all the defiance of a 5 year old.

"You can't just tell me what to do – I'm an adult, and you are _not _my father."

For some reason, that last little statement stung a little, but I ignored it. "I may not be your father, but I am definitely your elder. Answer me this, Mike – who do you come to when you need advice for a promo?"

He paused for a second. "You."

"Who do you come to when you get injured during a match for help?"

* * *

I sighed, growing tired of his games. "I get it, Jerry, you're… you're very important to me. What are you getting at?"

"What I'm trying to point out to you is that I am the closest thing you have to a father, Mike. I know about your dad – if you can confide _that _kind of information to me, you can most certainly confide whatever is bothering you to me. Do you understand?"

I sighed again, and rubbed my eyes tiredly. I did need to talk to someone, and so far, everything Jerry said either made sense or was completely true. I nodded, though still not completely sure, and let him into my locker room. I glanced at the clock before sitting down – 45 minutes before we had to be out for our match. That was enough time to get Jerry off my back… I'm not quite sure if that's a good thing or a bad thing yet.

We both sat a bench, facing each other. We just… _looked _at one another for at least a minute before his face went from completely emotionless, to a worried, father-like expression.

"Tell me what's going on, Mike," he said softly.

I swallowed hard, keeping my emotions in check. "You remember what I told you about my father, right?"

"Of course," he answered nodding. "He was a drunk, and you hated him."

"Yeah, well… I left some stuff out."

"Like what?"

This was it – after I let go of this information, there was no going back. Taking in a shaky breath, I told him something I'd never told anyone in my entire life. "He was also very abusive. Verbally and physically."

* * *

I could practically feel my heart being literally torn apart as I processed what Mike told me. I understood now why he would never let people get close to him – he was afraid. The poor kid was trembling, and I didn't hesitate in taking him into my arms, like I would with my own son, Brian. Mike rested his head on my shoulder as he told me more of his story.

"He recently found me," he said quietly. "Two weeks ago. He's been coming to my house… I don't know why… and… he's been hurting me."

"Why haven't you done anything?" I asked in disbelief. "More importantly, why are you _letting _him? I know you can defend yourself."

"He's a body builder, Jerry," he said sadly. "I couldn't fight him off if I tried. He'll come to my house, kick me around for a while, then have me get him a beer. I don't know why I'm putting up with it…"

"You aren't anymore. We're calling the authorities after the show is over, and we'll get this all straightened out. He's not going to hurt you ever again, Mike, I promise."

He noticeably calmed at my words. However, there was still more to discuss.

"In the meantime, though, we need to get one thing straight," I said sternly. "One, you should have told someone, preferably me, about this abuse you've been going through since it first started happening. Second, you still need to be punished for going completely off-script and endangering the whole show. What if the 'Anonymous GM' hadn't fixed everything? You're lucky that Dylan was ready to be Anonymous GM and send Cole that email."

Mike looked down at the floor, and I could tell he was starting to feel guilty. I grabbed his wrist and pulled him over my knee, something of which I'd had to do a few times with Mike, and pinned his right wrist at the small of his back.

"I want to make sure that we're absolutely clear on exactly _why _I'm about to spank you," I said. "What happened with your father was not your fault – do you understand?"

Silence. That was not good. I tugged down his wrestling trunks and started smacking hard, needing to get his full attention.

"B-but it _was _my fault!" he wailed after a minute or so. "I-I should h-have told you about what was going on – it was a stupid mistake, and it's all MY fault!"

I tipped him forward and spanked his sit spots as hard as I could without bruising. After about 30 seconds of that, he was sobbing hard. I kept a steady rhythm of smacks on his bottom as I spoke :

"Your father, simply put, is a _bastard, _Mike – there is NO way you could control what he was doing. You said it yourself, he's a body builder. How is any of that _your _fault? As for telling me sooner, that's not your fault either – you were afraid. This spanking is to ensure that you know that you don't have to be afraid any more – I am here for you, I always will be, you can tell me _anything. _Who's fault is it that you've been abused these past two weeks?"

"…..my fathers," he said, obviously not completely sure.

"Is it your fault that he's an abusive drunk?"

"No…" He sounded more thoughtful that time.

"So answer me this, Mike," I said, stopping the spanking all together. "Are you to blame at all for what you've been through?"

"No, I'm not," he said, in between sobs.

"Are you sure?"

"A-Absolutely." He nodded vigorously, and I knew that he was now in the right state of mind.

"No more going off script, okay?" I said comfortingly, rubbing his back. "And trust me to take care of you – you can **always **count on me."

He nodded softly, and I carefully placed his wrestling trunks back into place, causing a whole new wave of tears. I stood him up and held him close, and he clung to me like a lifeline. I didn't mind at all – I was glad that he was finally putting real trust in me. After a couple minutes, he let go, wiping away his remaining tears.

"Thank you," he said shyly.

"For spanking you?" I said with a chuckle.

"No!" he laughed, "I meant, thank you for being here for me."

"It's my honor. Now – I'm pretty sure we have a match coming up."

Mike groaned loudly and dropped his forehead against my shoulder. I laughed and petted his hair. "You'll be fine, trust me – I've been in your position many times."

He jerked his head up and stared at me with wide-eyed shock. "What?"

I turned and left, a huge grin on my face. That should keep him wondering for a _long _time.

~END~

**Ta da! Not my best work, but I'm happy with it I hope you are too! I'm really sorry it took so long, but I was having MAJOR writers block. So I'm toying around with a suggestion that was given recently – CM Punk and Triple H. I definitely think that would make for a GREAT chapter. Your thoughts?**

**-Rebecca 3**


	5. Being the Bad Guy Part 1

**Hey guys! Just an important little announcement – in this story, Shawn is 10 years younger than Triple H, and he hasn't retired. Takes place one week before the 1000****th**** RAW. Thanks, enjoy! ****3**

Chapter 4 – 

Character Focus – Triple H (Hunter), Shawn Michaels, CM Punk (Phil Brooks)

HHH P.O.V.

I hadn't even set foot out of my car when the sound of screaming and arguing assaulted my ears. I sighed heavily and grabbed my suitcase. I listened closer and recognized both voices immediately: my best friend, Shawn Michaels, and the hot-headed WWE Champion, CM Punk. Or Phil, as we like to call him.

I hurried to the scene of the crime and muttered a million curse words under my breath. Both men had bright red faces, obviously extremely pissed off. It didn't take a lot to piss Shawn off, but still, it was always a bit shocking when the almost angelic man got this angry. Punk looked almost as angry, but nobody could top the Heartbreak Kid when it came to losing your temper.

I dropped my suitcase when I saw Shawn throw the first punch. Within seconds they were brawling on the floor, at least 5 other Superstars trying to pry Punk off of Shawn.

"HEY!" I shouted, and everyone went still. Shawn's face went from bright red to ghostly pale in a matter of seconds. Punk wasn't so lucky – he kept an air of defiance and glared at me.

"Both of you, MY office, NOW." I ordered. I swore Shawn was halfway there before I even finished my sentence – Punk rolled his eyes and trudged after Shawn, not near as fast.

I looked over at Kofi, who had a sheepish look on his face. "What happened?" I asked.

"Um… short version or long version?"

"Long."

"Okay – Punk and Shawn smacked into each other, and Punk got all offended – why, I'm not sure – and Shawn got all upset, and they started arguing, and I think you know the rest."

"That… really wasn't that long, Kofi," I said distantly, wondering what had gotten into the two Superstars. Especially Punk – he wasn't usually so openly defiant towards me. I ignored Kofi's ramblings and headed down towards my office. Stephanie was waiting outside my door, a sweet smile on her lovely lips.

"This is gonna be a tough one, babe," she said, wrapping her arms around my neck. I buried my face in the crook of her neck, taking in the sweet scent that was distinctly Stephanie. "Phil is pretty upset, and Shawn looks scared to death. Care to explain, love?"

I smirked and shook my head in fondness. "The last time I was in this position with Shawn, I told him if he got into another fight with one of the Superstars he'd be feeling my belt."

"Do you plan on going through with your threat?"

I sighed, playing with a lock of Stephanie's hair. "I don't want too, but…"

"But you have too," she finished for me.

"Exactly. He's my best friend, I don't enjoy having to be a jerk to him."

"You're not being a jerk and he knows that, Paul," Stephanie said softly. "You're punishing him to make sure he doesn't turn out to be a hot-headed ass hole, like a certain father-in-law of yours."

I chuckled, placing a kiss on my wife's lips. "Thanks, Steph."

"I'm always here."

I took a deep breath and straightened my tie. I rested my hand on the doorknob for a moment or so before turning it and walking inside, ready to right the wrong between my two favorite Superstars.

**I'm so sorry that I took so long to update! The next chapter will be the continuation of this one. I got a lot of requests for HHH/HBK and HHH/CMPunk, and I couldn't decide which one to do because both of them were just SO brilliant, so I combined them. I hope you'll like it **

**I promise the next chapter won't take NEAR as long to be posted. Byee 3**

**~Rebecca**


	6. Being the Bad Guy Part 2

Chapter 5 – Being the Bad Guy, part 2

Character Focus – Triple H (Hunter), Shawn Michaels, CM Punk (Phil Brooks)

CONTAINS SPANKING.

**HBK P.O.V.**

I didn't realize Hunter leaning against the door with a very sour look on his face until Phil suddenly went silent. We had been arguing again, and neither of us had heard him come in. Once again, I felt my stomach drop – I was so dead. Or, at least, a certain fleshy region right below my back was.

We all three locked eyes for a moment before Hunter finally broke the silence : "I don't know what the hell has gotten into you two, but I want it to STOP, NOW. I know you both have pretty hot tempers, but you're acting like first graders, NOT like WWE Superstars."

I winced at that; Punk just crossed his arms and stared at the angry man in front of us. I stared at him in awe – I'd never had the guts to be so defiant towards Hunter, not even at the very beginning of my career. He may be my best friend, but he's ten years older than me, and disrespect, even in the smallest form, was always dealt with in the same manner.

Hunter noticed Punk's demeanor and shook his head. "Go wait out in the hall, I'll deal with you in a minute," he told him. _Crap, _I thought. I'm first.

Punk did as he was told and left the office, slamming the door on his way out. I chanced a look at Hunter, and sighed. This was not going to be pleasant.

**HHH P.O.V.**

Taking my mind off of Phil for the time being, I focused my attention on my younger friend. He was nervous; he should be. Both of us knew what the other was thinking.

"What's going on, Shawn?" I asked him. "Usually you're a little – and I use that word lightly – more controlled than that. You're like a loose cannon today. Anything going on lately? At home?"

Shawn sighed and crossed his arms. It wasn't meant as disrespectful – I knew exactly why he crossed his arms when he was upset. It was more of a self-hug. Shawn never got very much physical comfort when he was a kid, so he gave it to himself by doing that little self-hug. He didn't do it near as often anymore, since everyone backstage was more than happy to hug the almost angelic man, but he still couldn't seem to completely break the habit. I walked over to him and leaned on my desk alongside him, putting my arm around his shoulders and pulling him close. He leaned his head on my shoulder and sighed deeply, thankful for the comfort I was providing him.

"It's my brother," he said, fiddling with the hem of my jacket. "He's in the hospital with pneumonia. It's pretty bad, too. I've been acting out lately because I haven't been able to see him."

"Why haven't you gone and visited him yet?" I asked.

"I don't have any time off for a week or so," he answered like it was obvious. I removed him from my shoulder and looked at him incredulously.

"You could have asked for a day or two off to go see him!" I admonished. "I would have let you go! I'm a family man, Shawn, I understand these things. All you needed to do was ask."

Shawn groaned loudly and dropped his head into his hands. "This could have been avoided so easily."

"I know," I said, giving his shoulder a squeeze. "You just need to use that head of yours more often."

"I'm sorry," he said quietly.

"It's not entirely your fault, but you're forgiven. Now, I believe we have a 'discussion' that needs discussing."

Shawn looked up at me with sad blue eyes, and I almost changed my mind, but that wouldn't have done Shawn any good at all. I nodded towards the desk and he sighed, undoing his belt and pulling down his jeans to his knees and his boxers right below his butt – he was an extremely modest person. If it had been anyone else, he would have rather gone and jobbed at TNA, but him and I were close, and he trusted me. I took off my own belt, and I saw him tense at the sound.

"Do you really have to use a belt?" he asked quietly.

"Yeah," I responded sadly, "I do. But you'll be okay. It's not like it's the first time. Remember that match at SummerSlam?"

"That doesn't count, Hunter."

"I suppose you're right." I gently pushed Shawn over the desk, firmly placing my hand at the small of his back. He buried his face in his crossed arms, clenching his sleeves and starting to hypervenelate. "Shawn," I said firmly, rubbing his back. "You need to calm down – I am not going to abuse you, I'm going to spanking you. I won't even bruise you; I'm going to be very careful. You know you can trust me."

After nodded after a second and got his breathing back under control. I started immediately, not wanting to drag this on much longer. The first lash made him tense up, but he stayed silent. The second and third got the same reaction. By the fourth, a small yelp. Seventh, a choked sob escaped his lips. The next lash got him sobbing softly, and by the twelfth he was a sobbing hard, having reached his limit. I gave him one last swat across his sit-spots and ended the spanking, pulling his boxers up over his bright red rear-end. I pulled him into a huge bear-hug, his favorite kind, and he cried onto my shoulder. I didn't give a damn about my jacket – my best friend needed me, and I was happy to be there for him. His heart-wrenching sobs died down to small sniffles and hiccups, and he finally pulled away. He looked at me with his baby blue eyes, which were now blood-shot and rimmed with tears.

"That sucked," he said hoarsely.

I chuckled, pulling him back into my arms. "Next time, don't be afraid to ask, OK? If you need anything, you can always ask me. I'll do my best to give you what you need."

He nodded and hugged back before pulling away and smiling widely. "I need something."

I looked at him suspiciously. "What would that be?"

"Stephanie's chocolate chip cookies…"

I burst into laughter. "'Course, Shawn," I said, leading him towards the door. "She's in her office; she's got some in her suitcase."

Shawn cheered and quickly made his way to my wife's office. I smiled after him before noticing something.

Punk wasn't in the hall.

"Damn it," I muttered. I shook my head and went off to search for him.

**Thank you for reading! This is actually a 3 part story…it seemed to fit better anyway…. But the next chapter will be up as soon as possible, I promise! I hope you enjoyed reading this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it – this is totally my favorite chapter so far. I'm absolutely in LOVE with Shawn Michaels(: Stay tuned!**

**AND thank you to WrestlingQueen123 for your touching PM – totally made my day(:**

**~Rebecca**


	7. Being the Bad Guy Part 3

**Hey guys! Some of this chapter may sound a bit slashy, but I assure you, it is NOT. This is NOT a slash fic. Enjoy! **

Chapter 6 - Being the Bad Guy, part 3

Character Focus: Triple H (Hunter), CM Punk (Phil Brooks).

WARNING: SPANKING IN THIS CHAPTER.

~3rd Person~

Phil paced angrily back and forth in his locker room. Hunter had no right to spank him - he was an adult, for cryin' out loud! He'd heard rumors, sure, of the elder Superstars correcting behavior with that kind of punishment, but he'd always assumed it was just a joke, a little story to scare the younger Superstars into behaving. But after hearing Hunter raining down swats upon the Showstoppers' ass, he was out of there quicker than Big Show at a weight loss convention.

_There's no way in HELL I'm letting him do THAT to me, _Phil thought confidently to himself. But just about every ounce of confidence drained from his body when he heard loud, angry knocking on his locker room door.

"Phillip Jack Brooks!" a voice boomed. "Open this damn door immediately!"

Phil took a deep breath and put a stoic look on his face. He opened the door and found himself staring into the very angry eyes of Triple H, now in full pissed-off-boss mode.

"Maybe you didn't hear me correctly," he said, barging into the locker room. He looked Phil dead in the eyes. "I told you to wait. In. The. HALL."

"I did," Phil said nonchalantly, "You're the one who didn't specify how long to wait there."

"Cut the attitude, Punk, it's not going to help you out here _at all._"

Hunter was seething at his point. He forced himself to calm down - he had promised himself long ago that he would never punish one of his Superstars in anger. Once this was accomplished, he said calmly, "Explain to me why you've had such an attitude as of late."

"Attitude?" he laughed. "I don't have an attitude, Paul. Everyone does – that prick you call your best friend especially."

"There are 2 things wrong with what you just said, Phillip," Paul said, smirking slightly at how he visibly bristled at the use of his full name. "One, yes, you do have an attitude. Two, Shawn is _not _a prick, and you _know _that. He's been going through some stuff in his personal life, but I've dealt with it, and he won't be having an attitude for quite a while."

**HHH P.O.V.**

Phillip looked fairly pleased at the mentioning of my 'dealing with Shawn,' which only proved to irk me more. He was definitely pushing it.

"Now, Phillip - "

"Stop calling me that," he growled, shooting me a fierce glare. That was it. I grabbed his left bicep and spun him around, and landed 3 sharp swats on his backside. His eyes grew to size of watermelons and he couldn't seem to form a coherent sentence.

"Cut. The. Attitude." I said, deathly quiet. He offered me a small nod, so I let go of him for the time being.

"Now, let's try this again," I said, taking a seat on a bench. "Why the attitude?"

He shrugged, not saying anything, still a bit shocked at what I'd just done to him. That bothered me – then something hit me.

"When's the last time you were spanked?" I asked softly. He flinched, obviously hoping to have avoided that conversation.

"I dunno… it's definitely been a while."

"How long?"

He sighed. "I was 15."

That took me by surprise. "No one, in your entire career, has ever taken your sarcastic ass over their knee?"

He shook his head, almost sadly. Of course he'd never admit that the fact made him sad. But never having anyone who cared enough to discipline you would be a little heartbreaking.

"That changes today, Punk," I said seriously, but kindly. "I know you probably won't agree with me right now, but I now that you want this. You've had to go through your whole career watching your fellow Superstars be disciplined and cared for by the elders and that's got to be pretty damn hard to watch." I paused to watch his reaction to what I had to say; he looked almost sick. I placed a hand on his shoulder. "I am so sorry that I never gave you the attention you deserved, Phil. I do care – I care for you just as much as I care for Shawn, and I plan to make it known, to you and to everyone else. I'm guessing this is where your attitude has been coming from?" Phil shrugged, keeping his eyes on the tiled floor below him. "You're fed up being ignored, aren't you?"

He let out a shaky breath. I could tell this was hard for him. "I….I don't want to agree to what you're saying," He chuckled, "but…what you're saying… does seem to feel like the truth. It does bother me that the others seem to get more 'attention' as you call it. But, Paul, I don't think I can handle this."

**CM Punk P.O.V.**

"Why not?" he asked me, genuine curiosity in his features.

"'Why not?'" I scoffed. "I'm weak, Paul. That's probably why no one has ever bothered to take me in hand. I may portray myself as a pretty tough S.O.B., but I'm a total loser - "

I'd barely gotten that sentence out of my mouth before I found myself being yanked across his broad thighs. I instantly went into panic mode – I couldn't handle something like this, something so humbling and humiliating. I frantically tried to escape his hold, but to my horror, Hunter was a much bigger man than I was. He had both my wrist caught securely behind my lower back, and both my legs trapped under his right leg. But that didn't stop me from trying desperately to get away from him.

"H-Hunter!" I yelled, "Come on! I can't do this… I…"

"Hush," he said sternly. I groaned in frustration – I didn't want to push him, but gosh damn it! I really did _not _want to be in this awful position! I didn't want him to see me be weak – admitting that I was weak in the first place to him had been hard enough, but him actually _witnessing _it would be unbearable.

"First off," he said, tugging down my basketball shorts, "You most like _are _going to cry. It's practically unavoidable. Secondly, do _not _bite your lip. I don't want you to hurt yourself. And last, but certainly not least, when this is done, I will not cast you aside to deal with this by yourself. I'm going to be here for you through everything, I promise. You're not going to be alone anymore."

My eyes stung with unshed tears. I'm already getting emotional – wonderful. But… I had to admit, the idea of having someone care, sounded pretty damn good. I had always felt jealous watching my fellow Superstars being 'coddled' if you will by the elders. My father never did that – my mother rarely had time to even hug me, but when she did, it was a great feeling, the love…

I was suddenly jerked out of my musings when a hard smack befell my rear end. Holy CRAP. Slamming into the mat had NOTHING on a spanking! The swats rained down hard and fast, only giving me just enough time to register each one. It went on forever, and I tried my hardest not to make any sounds, but after a couple of minutes it was getting damn hard. I knew I shouldn't bite my lip, but I had no choice…

"Ahhh!" I cried at his sudden change in tempo. A _very _quick succession of _very _hard swats landed on the under curve of my ass.

"I saw that," he said sternly. "I told you not to bite your lip and meant it, Phillip. Shawn used to do it, and he always bit too hard and made himself bleed. My goal is not to injure you – I'm trying to discipline you. I care – I always have, I always will, and I'm so sorry I never made that clear to you before."

It was getting harder and harder not to cry out; the emotional impact of his words combined with the impact from his hand was not an easy combination to deal with.

**HHH P.O.V.**

I'd been spanking him for at least 5 minutes now, and he'd only made one sound. I was very impressed with his strong will, but it wasn't helping his backside at all. About 20 swats later, I decided that it was time to start bring this to an end. I increased tempo and aimed at his sit spots once again, swatting harder than I had been previously.

"Remember what I said earlier, Phillip – you are going to cry. The sooner you let go, the sooner we can bring this spanking to an end."

His ass was a pretty deep red – I could only imagine what he was feeling right now. The inner turmoil plus the constant swats on a thoroughly spanked bottom probably felt like hell. 10 well-aimed swats later, and Phil finally let loose his first chocked sob. _Finally, _I thought to myself.

"P-Paul!" he cried hoarsely, "Please! I-I…I can't…"

"Hush," I told him. "Not much longer, now. Just hear me. From this point on, you will _never _be uncared for again. I will always be here – an unmovable force, if you will."

"But… I… w-why?" he asked, his sobs becoming more frantic.

"Why?" I said, confused, stopping the spanking. "Because your worthy of my attention, Phil – you can't sell yourself short. I told you from the start that you would cry – Lord knows I cried every single time I got a spanking from Kevin or Scott."

"But -"

"Phillip, why don't you think you deserve my attention?" I asked him. It honestly was beyond me.

" I-I never s-said... AH!" he yelped as I began swatting again. He quickly answered my question and I stopped spanking once again. "No one h-has... ever b-bother to before, and I... I don't want to disappoint you..." He said very quietly.

My heart broke - had anyone ever loved this kid? I gave myself a mental reminder to talk to him about his childhood, because from the sounds of it, it hadn't been that great.

I knew it was time to end this session once and for all. I started swatting again, not with very much force but it was enough to send Punk of the edge. He didn't care anymore - he was sobbing and yelping, and know lay completely limp over my knee. I started to speak again after 15 swats:

"Are you worthy of my attention, Phillip?"

"I... I don't - AH! Yes! Yes, Hunter, I'm w-worthy o-of your attention!"

"How long will I give you the attention and care you deserve?"

"Forever," he said with little confidence. I swatted him harder, and he repeated his answer with much more certainty. I officially brung the spanking to a close, pulling his basketball shorts up over his deep-red ass. He started crying anew, but it was a different crying - he was releasing all of his pent up emotions and harboring the idea that I was going to be his unmovable force. I released his wrists and legs, but he didn't move. I understood that. He felt safe, and he was afraid to let it go in fear of never feeling such comfort again. I rubbed calming circles on his back, to which he completely relaxed - good. This would prove helpful in our coming struggles.

After a few minutes and brought him up onto my lap, just as Kevin always would whenever he had finished spanking me. Punk was rather small, reminding me of Shawn's build in some ways, so he fit just fine on my lap. At first he was tense, and when he didn't relax I said, "It's okay - I do this for Shawn, too. It's a normal after-spanking reward."

Content with my words, I swore he practically melted into my embrace, fixing his face in the crook of my neck. He cried softly for a while, and I smiled, feeling perfectly content with this great upcoming star on my lap. I'd always considered the kid like a son, and right now, I really wished he was. He needed a good father figure, and I intended to be that person for him.

"Paul?" he whispered.

"Yeah?"

"...thanks."

I smiled. "Any time, son."

**CM Punk P.O.V.**

Son. I got a wonderful, fluttery feeling when he said that. At first I was embarrassed by that feeling, but then I just thought _Screw it, _and relished in his attention. I thought back to how I'd always tried to hard to get attention from my father, but he was always so busy with his beer buddies that he'd never had any time for me. When I grew up, I had never wanted to feel like that ever again, so I never allowed anybody near my heart, not even my girlfriends. That's why my relationships never worked out - because I was afraid. And then along came Triple H, and he didn't even give me a choice in the matter. He was already closer to my heart than my father ever had been in the 18 years that I'd lived with him, and it had only been an hour.

"I'm thirsty," I said to myself, not even really meaning to. Paul chuckled, patting my back.

"Wash up, we'll go get some milkshakes before the show starts," he said. I nodded, blushing a little bit, and went to go wash my face. I locked the door to the bathroom and quickly took a peek at my ass, expecting bruises and welts and all sorts of awful things. But, much to my surprise, it was only a dark red, and I was sure it wouldn't bruise. It hurt like hell, but I knew I hadn't been abused.

I looked at myself in the mirror and groaned. My eyes were completely bloodshot and glassy from all the crying I'd done. _How can he even _consider _caring for someone who just sobbed his heart out on his lap? _I thought. But I pushed those away - I figure it out soon enough. I ran cold water over my face and dried it with a towel. I smoothed my hair down and took a few deep breaths before re-entering the locker room. He smiled proudly at me and threw his arm around my shoulders, and we left in search of milkshakes. I don't know how it happened, and honestly I didn't care, because I now had what I'd always been seaching for, even if I hadn't realized it:

Love.

**Sorry you had to wait so long for this chapter! I hope you liked it as much as I did. ****I don't know if I want to continue this story or not, so please review and tell me what your thoughts on this situation are. ****Thank you so much for reading this, please don't forget to review, ****even if your a guest!**

**~Rebecca **


	8. The Old Days

**Chapter 7: **

**Character Focus: Keven Nash, Shawn Michaels, Triple H (Hunter; Paul Levesque)**

**Time Period: 1996**

**WARNING: CONTAINS SPANKING OF ADULTS. NOT SLASH.**

HHH P.O.V.

Kevin was seriously pissing me off. All I wanted was to be left alone - that was _not _supposed to be considered having an 'attitude,' as he put it. I wasn't having a good week; everything just seemed to be pissing me off, and Kevin being one of them. Granted, I had been sort of snappy with him, but it'd been his fault - he just wouldn't leave me alone.

The big man was starting to get irritated with me. Good. Maybe now he'd leave me alone. Not likely, but one can always hope. Right now he was on the bench next to time, taping Shawn's wrists. Shawn was giggling about something, and from the look on Kevin's face, he had been the cause of it. I usually loved watching those two goof around, especially when Shawn let his guard down and did that adorable little giggle. And before you ask, no, I'm not gay, it's just that Shawn's giggle was down-right adorable - any man, straight or not, would agree with me.

But today, it just bugged me. I rolled my eyes and pulled my hair back into a pony tail, not aware that Shawn had seen my eye roll.

"What's got you all moody?" he asked.

"I'm not moody," I said shortly.

"Uh huh," he said, totally not buying. Shawn always had a scary knack for reading people - I was no exception. "Come on, Hunter, I'm one of your best friends - you can tell me anything."

"Nothing is wrong, all right?" I snapped. "Will you just go comb your hair or something else to indulge your girly habits?"

I regretted my words the second they came out of my mouth - hurt was written all over Shawn's face. He just turned away from me and sat back down across from Kevin, who was looking at me with disapproving eyes. I ignored them and grabbed my ring gear, deciding to get changed elsewhere. I went into the men's bathroom, not bothering to lock it. I leaned on the sink and took a deep breath. I really hadn't meant to hurt Shawn...but damn it, he needed to learn to stay out of other people's business.

"You had no good reason to say what you did to Shawny," a deep voice said. I hadn't even heard him come in, so I jumped a little and glared at him.

"'Shawny' needed to stay out of my business," I growled.

"He was concerned about you, Hunter," he practically shouted. He shut the door and locked it before turning to look me straight in the eye. "I don't know what's got in such a crappy mood, but I swear to God, you'd better cut it out, or you will be very sorry."

His words only pissed me off more, and fueled my defiance. "This is _none _of your business, Nash," I yelled at him. "So leave me. The hell. ALONE!"

Suddenly, white-hot pained blossomed in my left cheek. It took me a second to realize that he'd just slapped me across the face. I was so shocked that I couldn't even speak.

"First off, don't _ever _speak to me like ever again," he said quietly. "Secondly, I'm sorry I had to slap you. But damn it Hunter, you need to learn to watch your mouth."

I just nodded dumbly, rubbing my cheek. Kevin crossed his arms and leaned against the door. "You ready to tell me what's going on?"

Nash P.O.V. 

I felt awful about slapping him, but it had resulted in the desired effect; he was now acting more humbled and less defiant. He averted his eyes when I asked him if he was ready to talk, which made me all the more curious and eager to help my young friend.

"I want to help you, Hunter," I told him. "Your secret is safe with me."

He took a deep breath and did that little self-hug that Shawn always did when he was feeling lonely or sad. Now I was worried - it must be pretty damn bad.

"My parents never approved of my going into the wrestling business," he said quietly. "So much so that they just started completely ignoring me. I hated it, a lot..." he paused and took a deep breath. I hated seeing him so vulnerable and hurt, but he needed to get this, whatever it was, out in the open.

"I went to see them last week... only to have them inform me that they had disowned me a couple of months ago. They can't even stand to have me share the same blood as them...I don't know how you and the Klique can stand to have me around..."

I sighed loudly, and Hunter immediately stopped talking. From the look on his face, he was probably thinking that I was sick of hearing him talking.

"Hunter, you're being an idiot. Sorry for sounding harsh, but seriously, get a grip. Shawn adores you; Scott considers you one of his best friends, and you've always been like a kid brother to me. The Klique consists of four, no more, no less - it wouldn't be the same without you."

He fiddled with the hem of his shirt, mulling over my words. After a couple of seconds, I continued. "You really hurt Shawn back there, Hunter. You _know _how sensitive the kid is. And to hear those words come from _you, _someone he's always looked up to just made it all the worse." He flinched involuntarily. I shook my head sadly. "I know you're going through some sh*t, but you've still gotta answer for how you've acted lately."

He gave me a knowing look, laced with dread and sadness. This wasn't the first time I'd punished him; he seemed to have a knack for getting himself into trouble. But he still hated it. He could withstand the harshest punishment in the ring without batting an eyelash, but when it came to a spanking, it always proved to be his undoing.

"Over the sink," I ordered him, nodding towards it. I could practically feel his heart drop, but he did as I asked. To his credit, he remembered to pull down his jeans and boxers before bending over and burying his face in his crossed arms. I undid my belt and doubled it over, and placed my left hand on the small of his back.

"You're gettin' 20," I said, taking in how he shuddered at the number. "You'll be okay, I promise - I'd never push you beyond your limits." And it was true - I knew how much he could take, and I would never dream of pushing him beyond that. That was borderline abuse, and that was never the intended outcome, and never would be.

I brought the belt back a little past my shoulder and swung it down hard on his ass. He jumped, but stayed down on the counter. An angry red welt appeared seconds later, and I brought the belt down again, a little lower. Two swats later he was grunting, trying hard to stay quiet. He did that every time, but it never worked. A few swats later he was crying, barely able to keep himself from full-out sobbing. By swat 12, he was begging me to stop.

"Sorry, kid, you know I can't do that," I said, swatting hard on his under curve.

"I-I know, b-but it m-make me feel b-better," he sobbed. I bit back a snicker and started on his thighs, afraid that too many more swats to his backside would result in bruising. He cried more frantically, and I was proud of him for keeping his hands out of the way. Usually I had to pin them to his back by now.

Finally, the last swat came, and I paused to talk to him. "I am so sorry about what happened with your family, Hunter," I said softly. "God knows I know what you're feelin'. You need to know that me, Shawn, and Scott are ALWAYS going to be here for you, because we love you, you're like a brother to us. Do you understand?"

"Yeesss!" he cried, desperate for this session to be over. The last swat landed hard, aimed perfectly on his sit spots. I tossed the belt behind me and took Hunter into my arms, his shaking frame melting into my embrace. He clutched my shirt for dear life, crying hard onto my shoulder. I smiled sadly and stroked the soft blonde hair, glad that I'd rid my friend of the inner demons that had tormenting him for the last week. A few minutes later, he'd calmed down enough to speak properly.

"M'sorry," he said, still hugging me tight. "M'so sorry, Kevin." Soft sobs racked his frame, and I just held him tighter.

"I know," I said. "I forgive you. You need to apologize to Shawn, still, so as soon as you're ready, we'll go see him."

Hunter nodded eagerly, and I was proud of him for that. He splashed water on his face and combed his messy hair, taking a few deep breathes before nodding, signaling that he was ready. I put a reassuring hand on his shoulder as we made our way back to the Klique's locker room, where now only Shawn resided.

"Shawn?" Hunter said, his voice timid.

He turned around and looked at Hunter coldly. But that only lasted for about 2 seconds, 'cause when he saw how upset the kid looked, he knew immediately that what had happened was all a misunderstanding of some sort. Shawn flung his arms around Hunter's neck, and squeezed him tight.

"I forgive ya, Hunter," the Heartbreak Kid said quietly.

"Thank you," he replied, sounding very relieved.

"How many?"

"What?"

I held back a snicker.

"How many swats did you get?" Shawn asked innocently. Hunter, though, turned bright red, and sputtered incoherently for a second before sighing in defeat.

"20."

"That's it?"

"With a belt…"

"Oh… well that sucks."

"Yeah, it kinda did."

"Do you wanna go get ice cream before the show starts?"

"Uh, YES."

They rushed out of the room in search of their favorite snack, but not before Hunter shot me an appreciative glace. He'd be alright – I believed in him, and I always would.

**WOW. GOOD GRAVY. I am so sorry that this has taken so long to post! College really takes up my time, but luckily the 'homework' has been pretty light lately so I'll hopefully have another chapter up soon. Thanks to **Smergrl3495 **for that crazy-awesome review – I've never had one so long! So…so AWESOME! Lol thanks for reading PS, this story in itself is done, new WWE stories will be posted as oneshots or chaptered stories by themselves, so check out my other stories to read more :)**


	9. Saving Cody Rhodes Part 1

Chapter 8 : Saving Cody Rhodes

Character Focus : Cody Rhodes; Stone Cold Steve Austin (I know – a longshot!)

WARNING : sort of bad language lol and mentions of spanking (so far XD )

I remember when I first met the kid. I'd been walking down the many hallways in that nights' arena, nursing a beer, having already downed at least four. I was involved in a two month long story line with John Cena and CM Punk, so I would be sticking around for a while. I heard shouting, and it got me curious, so I followed the noise. I peeked around a corner, and saw that stupid son of the b*tch, Dusty Rhodes, arguing with his son.

"Dad, that's not how I do things," the kid insisted. Now my curiosity had grown to dangerous heights, and I kept listening. "I could get in trouble."

"You'll be in trouble with me if you keep arguing, Cody," Dusty growled. "If you don't take this company by its throat, you'll never be as big as I was, as I _am. _Forget everyone else, forget your 'friends.' They're not really your friends. They'll step on you to get to the top in a heartbeat. You gotta beat 'em to the punch."

"My friends aren't like that, dad, people are different then how they were when you worked here."

Dusty laughed, a belittling laugh that pissed me off. Lord knows I'm not the nicest person on the planet, but damn it, Dusty had always been a bully, and it really, _really _pissed me off that he was even bullying his own son into doing something that the kid obviously did **not **want to do.

"You're a naïve little prick, Cody," Dusty said, shaking his head. "I don' get how the hell you're my offspring."

I saw Cody's face fall – not too much, so I knew Cody had heard words similar to those before.

"I'm sorry I'm not the son you wanted, dad, but I _can't _stab the only people who've helped me out this past year in the back-"

His sentence was cut short by a very sharp slap to his face from Dusty. I didn't even realize what I was doing – suddenly I was out of my 'hiding place' and shoving that jack $$ hard up against the wall.

"What the _hell _do you think you're doing?!" he yelled in my face, trying to get out of my grasp, but there was no way in hell he was going to do so.

"I'm no father, but I'm pretty damn sure that's not how you're supposed to treat your son," I growled, putting pressure on his neck, making his beady little eyes grow wide. "Why don't you do piss someone else off, huh?"

I shoved him in the direction of another hallway, a very obvious warning to get the hell away. The American moron glared but took off faster than I'd even seen him waddle before.

I glanced over at Cody, who's eyes were wider than Dusty's had been. He looked surprised, and pretty damn confused.

"Are you okay?" I asked him.

He didn't say anything, just looked at me.

"Cat got your tongue, kiddo?" I chuckled.

Finally, he said, "I'm fine." He took a breath before thanking me for what I'd done for him.

"People don't usually stick up for me," he said sadly. "Everyone thinks I'm as much of an $$ as my father."

"People are always gonna judge, you just gotta prove 'em wrong, Cody," I told him. I patted him and walked away, calling over my shoulder, "If you ever need a beer, my locker room door is always open."

I swear I could feel the kid smilin'.

oOo

Cody did come by for that beer – we had a nice little conversation about the business and such. I inquired about his childhood, and it had not been a good one. Dusty was very neglectful. Cody had never even once been grounded – and Cody told me about some of his childhood mishaps, and you can bet _your _ $$ that I would have whipped _his _ $$ if he'd been my kid for some of them. All in all, though, I really liked Cody – he was a good kid, and he was lucky that a childhood like his, he grew up to be like that.

I didn't see him for a week or so. I got to wondering how things were going with his dad. I found out as I watched the show from my locker room, as Cody got upset with, then _attacked, _Michael Cole.

I knew immediately that it had been under Dusty's influence. I chucked my half-empty beer in the trash and searched the arena in a rage for Dusty Rhodes.

When I found him in the parking lot, he tried to talk to me peacefully, but I wasn't going to put up with any of his sh**.

"Cody has a good future, Dusty," I growled, "and I'll be damned if I let you ruin it."

"He's MY son-"

"And you obviously don't want him, so STOP trying to screw up his career or I swear to God, I will kick your $$ so hard you'll forget you even had one to begin with. Do you understand me?"

"Fine," Dusty chuckled. "In fact, you can have him. I don't want to deal with him – he's damaged goods, he's worthless. Good luck, rattlesnake!"

I glared at him as he left the arena. But now I had bigger things to deal with. I couldn't let him ruin his career – his dad had gotten to him, and now I had to get to him. Only I had to figure out how.

TBA!

**I have NO idea where the inspiration for this came from – but I like it. Do you?**

**SUPER APOLOGIES for having been gone for so long. The next chapter will, and I repeat, WILL be up very very very soon **** Reviews please!**

**~Rebecca~**


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 9 – Saving Cody Rhodes, pt. 2

Character Focus : Cody Rhodes; Stone Cold Steve Austin

**WARNING: NON-SEXUAL SPANKING OF ADULT**

I waited by the gorilla for Cody. I kept myself calm – the last thing he needed was for me to act like a bigger jerk than his father.

I could tell the kid was troubled the second I saw his face. He hadn't wanted to attack Michael – that much was obvious. When he saw me, the guilt on his face doubled.

"…Hey Steve."

"Cody," I said curtly. I shook my head. "What are you doing, kid? That wasn't you out there."

He sighed and rubbed his eyes, stressed. "I…" He couldn't seem to go on. He just looked at me with sad eyes – suddenly I knew there was more to this story then I thought. So I led him to my locker room, to talk. I tossed him a towel and he wiped the sweat from his body and face. I looked him in the eyes and asked him again just what the hell he was doing.

"My dad…he threatened to disown me if I didn't do what he said," Cody said quietly, looking away from me and suddenly finding the floor very interesting. "He'd cut me off from everything – I didn't want that to happen."

At that very moment, someone knocked on the door. It was a stagehand, and he handed me and envelope for Cody. I gave it to him and he opened it. Tears streamed down his face as he read the contents.

"Cody?" I said worriedly, sitting next to him on the benches. I gently took the letters out of his hands and took a look for myself.

They were disownment papers.

"Damn it," I sighed. I tossed the papers aside and put a comforting hand of Cody's shoulder.

"I don't _get _it," he mused, his voice hoarse. "_What _did I ever _do _to make him hate me so much?"

"You didn't do anything, kiddo," I said, attempting comfort. "Dusty…he's always been a bastard. No one really knows why, that's just how he is, I guess. None of this is your fault."

"Maybe if I'd try to be more like him, tried to do what he did sooner, than maybe he would have loved me."

"Do you know where that would have gotten you?" At his lack of response, I said, "In a crappy little town called Nowhere. You are a _good person. _You have a future – but you won't if you continue the stupid- $$ stunts."

"I don't need the lecture, Steve," he growled. His eyes were dark – I wasn't go anywhere with him when he was like this.

"Well, you're getting one and more than just a lecture if you don't get rid of this attitude."

"Or what, huh?" Cody yelled, getting to his feet and glowering down at me. "I'm a grown man, I can do whatever I want. If I want to go heel, so what? It's not like you care. You're just pretending – I don't know why, but I honestly doubt the 'rattlesnake' gives a sh** about what I do!" I stood as well and stood nose to nose with the kid. Something Dusty had said earlier popped up in my head: _…he's damaged goods, he's worthless…_

He was testing me – to see if someone really cared. Even if I'd only recently meet the kid last week, he'd stirred paternal instincts that I'd only ever felt for my daughters. I somehow felt that I was supposed to help him – now I've been one for sentiment or one of those 'fate' type fellows…but I couldn't help feeling something had brought this kid to me, and I'd be damned if I let him slip through my fingers.

"You've got one last chance to ditch that crap attitude," I warned him. He glared coldly at me and spat, "_Don't _tell me what to do."

I grabbed his upper arms and forced him over to a table. Bending him over it, I firmly placed my hand on his back, in between his shoulder blades, not allowing him up. I unbuckled my belt and doubled it over, all while keeping Cody in place. The kid yelled and cursed and kicked, but there was no way in hell I was letting him up.

"Why do you think I'm about to whoop your ass, Cody," I said gruffly.

"Because you're f***ing crazy!" he yelled.

"Not quite. But you'll get the answer soon."

And with that, I lit his ass on fire. He squirmed and yelped like anyone would in his position. At around 11 I asked him again why I was spanking him.

"I-I don't know," he said shakily, face buried in his arms. I brought the belt down on his sit-spots, and he yelled, "Because I was d-disrespectful to you!"

Hearing genuine sadness in his voice, I said, "Good. There's a few more reasons. See if you can guess them while the remaining swats are delivered."

A small sob escaped his lips as he searched for the answers. Two swats later, he cried, "B-Because I attacked Michael, because I-I let my father influence me to do such a bad thing…"

"Very good," I praised. "One more. This one's tough, so I'll help you. It has to do with me."

He was quiet except for sniffles and sobs. I smacked the belt against his thighs, earning a heart-wrenching cry from Cody.

"I-I don't think I have the right answer!" he sobbed, his whole body shaking.

"Give it a try," I encouraged, stopping the whipping.

"…is it because you…"

"It's because I _care,_" I finished for him. "I don't want you to end up losing your job, or worse, ending up like Dusty. You need to know that not everyone is like him – I'm not like him – I care, and if it means taking my belt to you for a week to prove it to you, I'll do just that, son."

That did it for him. Any resistance in him left his body and he collapsed into a sobbing mess on the table. Tossing the belt aside, I pulled him up and wrapped him up in a very rare stone-cold-Steve Austin-bear-hug. He melted into my arms – it made me sad to think that he'd probably never _really _been hugged before.

"Now you listen," I said quietly. "If you ever need anything, you just call me. If you're ever having issues with Dusty, you call me. No matter how insignificant, at any time of day, you call me. Understood?"

He nodded against my shoulder, finding it very comfortable there. I smiled and gave him as time as he needed.

oOo

*4 months later*

Heath Slater searched the halls for his good buddy, Cody Rhodes. Him and a few of the boys were going out for a night on the town: drinking, pranking, all the good stuff.

Finding him talking with the lovely Kaitlyn, he smiled at Cody's attempts at flirting, which seemed to be having the desired effect on the NXT winner.

"I need Cody for a moment, if you don't mind," Heath said with a dorky smile. Smiling, Kaitlyn pecked Cody on the cheek before leaving to get ready for her dark-match.

Cody stared after her in amazement before turning to Heath. "What's up?"

"We're going out drinking, buddy," the ginger said. "You, me, Justin, and Drew. It'll be awesome!"

"What else will we be doing?" Cody asked suspiciously, knowing his friend a little too well.

"Not too much else," Heath said sheepishly. "Just the usual…"

"Does the usual entail wreaking havoc on the innocent citizens of New York and giving the company a bad reputation?"

Heath sighed. "Come on, Cody, it won't be _that _bad."

Cody shook his head. "I don't think my dad would like it."

"You're damn right he wouldn't," the gruff voice on Steve Austin said, walking up to them. "You know better than that, Heath. Now go back to the hotel before I tell Wade what you're up to."

Going white, the one-man-band scurried out of there and back to the locker rooms.

Chuckling, Steve patted his son on the back. "I'm proud of you for saying no, son," he said. "That's a valuable asset."

"Thanks, dad," Cody said, genuinely pleased at Steve's praise. It had been a great four months since the disownment – other than the occasional spanking, which Cody had to admit, he had deserved; though he would never say such a thing.

"You up for steak?" the rattlesnake asked. "I bought that seasoning you like earlier today."

Grinning, Cody nodded, and left the arena with the father he'd always wanted. And Steve left the arena with more pride in his son then he'd ever felt before.

**The End.**

**Thank you all so much for reading. This is the last chapter – I truly hope it was satisfactory. Other stories will be posted, but only as one or two-shots. Remember to review – my goal is to have a story with at least 100 reviews **** Happy Thanksgiving, enjoy it with the ones you love **

**With much love,**

**Rebecca.**


	11. The Fine Line of Respect

Chapter 11 – The Fine Line of Respect

Character Focus – Vince McMahon and DX (D-Generation X – Shawn Michaels and Paul Leveque/Triple H/ Hunter)

**WARNING: NONSEXUAL SPANKING OF AN ADULT**

Shawn Michaels nervously played with the hem of his shirt. They really had gone a little too far tonight. Taking over the boss's private jet had been bad enough, but vandalizing it had really been the icing on the cake. Or the straw that broke the camel's back, depending on how you looked at it.

Hunter, however, didn't seem to have a care in the world. He casually tossed a tennis ball repeatedly against the door of Vince's office. It had to be driving the elder man crazy. The door suddenly swung open and a fuming Vince McMahon stepped out.

"STOP HITTING MY DOOR WITH THAT DAMN TENNIS - " he was cut off by the ball catching him in the jaw. While Shawn looked horrified, Hunter doubled over with laughter.

"Bad timing, Vince," he chuckled.

"My office, NOW," Vince ordered, his voice dangerously quiet. Not wanting to push their luck, the two degenerates did what he said (_For once, _the boss thought to himself) without a word.

"What you two did tonight was completely unacceptable," Vince said, taking a seat in his plush, black leather swivel chair. "Do you have any idea how much it's going to cost me to get all of that green paint off of my private jet? I know _you_ do, Hunter – care to tell me?"

Sighing, he said, "Couple thousand."

"And that doesn't bother you at all?"

"Well….I guess we shouldn't have vandalized it in the first place but honestly, a couple thousand really isn't going to affect you that much. I don't see why this pissed you off so much, it's not that big of a deal."

Vince shook his head in disbelief. "Shawn, you want to explain to Hunter why this is such a big deal?"

Eyes darting between his boss and his best friend, he said, "It was very disrespectful to you."

"Exactly. I don't mind the little jokes and pranks you two do around here. In fact, I've learned to enjoy them. But there's a line between having fun and being disrespectful to authority figures."

Hunter sighed. He was starting to feel the guilt. Vince could see the remorse invading Hunter's features. _Thank God, _he thought.

"Hunter, why don't you go wait in the hall while I deal with Shawn," Vince said. Shooting Shawn an apologetic glance, he left the office and shut the door behind him.

As usual, Shawn looked nervous as hell. Vince had always had a soft spot for Shawn, and he usually never had to do something as drastic as give his best wrestler a spanking, but every so often, Shawn would stray from the straight and narrow, mostly due to influence from Hunter. Vince was always there to help him, whether Shawn wanted it at the time or not. Afterwards, Shawn was always appreciative of the older man's correction.

Pulling out a paddle from his desk drawer, he stood and stood next to Shawn. He gave the younger man's shoulder a comforting squeeze before gently pushing him over the desk. Knowing exactly how much the paddle hurt, he didn't see any need in baring Shawn for this particular paddling. Knowing the drill, Shawn buried his head in his crossed arms and steadied his frantic breathing.

Taking his place at Shawn's left side, Vince said, "Tell me why you're receiving this paddling."

"Because we disrespected you," Shawn said miserably. "I'm really sorry, Vince."

"I know, kid."

Vince brought the first swat down hard across the top of Shawn's thighs. The younger man yelped, but stayed in place. Vince didn't hold back: swats on his sit spots, thighs, and every inch of his bottom. Shawn cried, _hard, _but took it because he knew he'd been bad. At the 15th swat, Vince started talking: "You won't do anything like this again, will you?"

"N-No!" Shawn cried, his entire body racking with sobs.

"You're not naughty; you're a very good kid. I know you are."

"N-Not naughtyyy," Shawn nodded. Vince smiled at Shawn's child-like response.

"Just two more," the older man said. He delivered them quickly to this sit spots and thighs and finally let the younger man up off the desk. Shawn clung to his boss, who really was more like a father than just an employer, and the older man was only happy to give Shawn the comfort he needed.

"You're OK," Vince said, "you're OK. You took your punishment very well."

"Th-Thank you," Shawn sobbed, his head buried in the crook of Vince's neck. Once the bountiful comfort dished out, Vince sent Shawn to send Hunter in. He allowed his younger charge to seek more comfort from Linda, who had a very big spot in her heart for the Showstopper.

Vince sighed, knowing he now had a very hard-headed son-in-law to deal with next. Hunter entered the room, looking very nervous and very unwilling to submit to any spanking of any sort. He tried keeping a serious, non-intimidated expression on his face but quite frankly was failing miserably. Vince shook his head and leaned against his desk. "So. Are we going to do this the easy way or the hard way?"

Hunter glared at the older man. "I'm not a child. I am not getting a spanking from you."

"Are you calling Shawn a child?"

"More so than I am."

"Funny. You're acting a lot more like a child than Shawn right now."

"And how the hell do you figure that?" Hunter growled.

"An adult wouldn't be arguing with his superior about the punishment he was going to receive. An adult would have owned up to doing something wrong and not tried to talk his way out of it. Shawn acted very much like a mature young man, while you, my hard-headed son-in-law, are acting like a spoiled little 5 year old."

Hunter's face lit up at that remark. He didn't say anything, just stared at the ground, his arms crossed, and Vince could have sworn he saw a pout on the Game's face.

"Are you going to behave now and take your punishment like Shawn did?" Vince asked, not unkindly. He saw the younger man nod ever so slightly. Placing a hand on his shoulder, he steered Hunter over to the desk.

"I should make you drop your pants, but since I didn't make Shawn, I won't make you," Vince said, placing Hunter over his desk. He practically mimicked Shawn's movements by burying his head in his crossed arms. Vince smiled at the younger man fondly before picking up the paddle for the second time that afternoon and began Hunter's paddling in earnest.

Hunter gasped as the first swat ripped through him, lighting his backside on fire. The second was just as hard, aimed a tiny bit lower than the first. It _hurt, _so much more than he thought it was going to. How the hell was a punishment for _children? _Tough little S.O.B.'s.

The older man swatted every part of his backside, and then laid into his thighs, and even worse, the little spot between his butt and his thighs, the sit-spots. Hunter couldn't stop the small sobs that racked his body and the miscellaneous tears that spilled onto his cheeks. He hated this – he hated showing emotion, he hated being in this vulnerable position, he hated the fact that his ass felt like it was _fire. _But most of all he hated that this was all making him think. He had been incredibly disrespectful to Vince. Pranks are one thing, but graffiti on the boss's private jet is entirely different thing. What had he been thinking?

Oh, right…he hadn't been thinking.

Vince noticed the change in Hunter's demeanor and knew that it was time to wrap this up. "No matter how hard you try to convince us otherwise, you are a good person, Hunter," Vince said confidently. "You just need to use that head of yours more often. If you're going to run this company someday, you've got to learn to make better decisions. You can do that – you're very smart, and you're going to make a great C.E.O. someday."

His voice was low and raw from crying, but Hunter responded with "T-thank-thank y-you."

Vince smiled softly. His 'thank you' said much. It told him that they were, at last, where they needed to be. Hunter had to lose himself in this for it to help him. He was not thanking Vince for his discipline, or for taking him in hand – that was later on – right now he was simply being courteous. Vince had said a kind thing; Hunter had replied by politely saying thank you, and politeness wasn't a normal thing for the Game, so Vince knew that he had finally yielded.

"Let's try not to be in this position for a little while, alright?" Vince asked, setting the paddle down and leaning next to the younger man on the desk. Hunter nodded, his sobs still violent, head still buried in his arms. Vince knew that Hunter wasn't a big fan of hugs (unless it was Shawn – no one dared refuse Shawn a hug), so instead rubbed calming circles in between his shoulder blades, and felt the tension slowly drain away. When he finally got his tears under control, he slowly rose up from his position and stood up straight. He looked over at Vince with red-rimmed eyes and very softly said, "I'm really sorry, Vince."

"I know," Vince assured him, squeezing the younger man's shoulder. "Why don't you go seek comfort from Stephanie?"

"And let her know that you just tanned my ass? I don't think so, daddy-o."

Vince barked out a laugh, shaking his head. There were definitely some odd-birds around here.

~**END**~

**YES I KNOW. I thought I was done with this story too, but…I don't know, I thought maybe you all would like it if I continued it. ON ONE CONDITION:**

** IF THIS STORY GETS 10 MORE REVIEWS THEN I WILL CONTINUE THIS STORY UNDOUBTEDLY. **

** So yeah **** I hope you liked this chapter!**

**~Rebecca**


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12: 

Character Focus: Undertaker (Mark Callaway); John Morrison (John Hennigan)

WARNING: WILL CONTAIN THE SPANKING OF A FLAMBOUANT ADULT.

Mike was really getting to me. I knew that our characters were heels, but seriously – he was starting to take it too far. He was getting way too cocky, and was starting to treat people very disrespectfully. I had to go along with it; I didn't want him to ditch me, because I knew that I couldn't make it as a singles wrestler. I wasn't that good.

Right now he was teasing one of the rookies. It wasn't playful teasing; it was rude, condescending teasing. The kid looked hurt, and took off, followed by Mike's laughter.

"You shouldn't have done that, Mike," I said to him, frowning as I laced up my boots.

"Whatever," he waved off. "We've got to talk."

"About what?" I asked, really not liking mischievous look on his face.

"Tonight Marks' having a match with some kid," he recalled, "and can you _imagine _how demeaning it would be if the **Undertaker **lost a match to a rookie?"

He'd lost it. I was sure of it. "Please tell me you're not thinking about interfering in his match."

"_We'll _be interfering in his match," he giggled, grinning like a maniac.

I looked at him like he was crazy, which I was almost sure that he was. "You are the stupidest person alive. Mark would _kill us. _What has he done to us to deserve us costing him a match?"

"We gotta make names for ourselves," Mike pushed. He was starting to look upset. "Do you really want to be the rookie all your life?"

"No…but Mike, there's got to be a better way to do this," I insisted. Mike just shook his head, now glaring at me.

"You either do this my way or we're over," he growled. I sighed and looked down at my feet, feeling ashamed for what I was thinking. I needed Mike, he was my…friend…was he even that anymore? He had changed a whole lot since we first met, and on more than one occasion I've thought about ending our friendship.

"Fine," I muttered, not looking up at him, but I could feel his smile.

"Great. Get ready, 'Taker's match is up next."

The door slammed shut, leaving me alone with my thoughts. I rubbed my eyes, feeling exhausted. I hated this. I wasn't even enjoying my job anymore, something I never thought would happen. When I'd been Johnny Nitro, that had all been a character – anything 'bad' I did was pre-planned and approved. Now, with Mike, we were just being jerks, and I really didn't like that. I felt like it was about time for a change. Maybe I'll talk to Vince sometime.

Not wanting to upset 'the Miz' further, I grabbed my sunglasses and headed towards the gorilla, avoiding everyone, including Melina. I didn't want her to know what I was about to do, she would be so disappointed. Mike was already there, looking excited, not nervous in the least. People knew that look, and started giving us cautious and skeptical glances. I kept my gaze towards my feet. Mike suddenly grabbed me and moved us a little further from the gorilla. At my questioning look, he nodded towards the big man walking toward the gorilla – the Undertaker. Mark Callaway. He glanced at us, and I immediately found my hands very interesting.

"Mike," he said curtly, nodding. Mike smirked.

"Mark," he replied, his voice anything but respectful. I forced myself to look up at Mark, knowing he'd be 'greeting' me next. He was suspicious of us, and Mike knew that, though he didn't seem to be worried about it in the slightest.

"John," he nodded, sounding a little more relaxed when saying my name, in contrast to how he'd greeted Mike. I gave him a tiny smile and nodded back, not saying anything, then looked back down at my hand.

"Are you alright?" he questioned. My heart froze. I looked at Mike, whose eyes were burning with fury. Turning back to Mark, I said, "Yeah, just nervous about my match, that's all."

He continued looking at me for a second. I didn't look away; I didn't want him to be any more suspicious of us. He walked off without a word, making his way toward the ring for his match.

"Get ahold of yourself, John," Mike growled. I didn't pay attention to him.

A couple minutes later, Mike announced that it was time. I followed him to the gorilla, and finally, out onto the ramp and into the ring. Mark looked surprised – and angry. But worst of all he looked disappointed, especially when he looked at me. Mike hit him with a steel chair while he was distracted with me. He fell hard; suddenly I was frozen. I couldn't believe I was going through with this. What had I been thinking? I had better sense than this. I could be so easily influenced…this was such a horrible idea….

Suddenly, fire burst from the four corners of the ring. Out of nowhere appeared 'Kane,' ready to defend his brother. I looked over at Mike, and finally, he seemed to realize just how bad of an idea this had been. His eyes were wide, his mouth hanging slightly open – he knew he was in deep sh*t, and he had no clue just how to handle it. I saw Mark glance over at Kane. Now they had a plan, and that just meant more misfortune for us.

They lunged at us, grabbing us by the throat and slamming us down onto the mat. It didn't, however, feel like he put as much force into it like he usually did. He definitely had a plan, and whatever it was, I really didn't like it. The crowd cheered; excited to see the Brothers of Destruction in the same ring, for it rarely happened anymore. The reunion was short lived, for the brothers hoisted us upon their shoulders and carried backstage. We tried to get down once we were out of sight, but they had none of that. I tried to stay still as they carried us to whatever destination they had in mind, but Mike did no such thing. He kicked and cursed, until finally, Glen had enough. He landed three smart swats to my tag team partners' bottom, shocking him into silence for all of about 10 seconds.

Glen suddenly stopped following Mark and went in his own direction, going into a room and slamming the door shut. I found myself beginning to struggle, suddenly very worried, when a sharp smack to my rear end halted all forms of movement from that point on. Finally we reached his destination (his private locker room), I had no time to think or even realize what was happening before I was over his knee, bare, being swatted hard with a hairbrush. I had no clue where in the world he'd gotten it, or how the _hell _he'd managed to do all this so fast. All I knew was that the hairbrush **hurt**, and I didn't like it one bit. I struggled to get out of this position but it was no use – it only encouraged him to quicken the tempo. I was crying already, mostly at the realization that I was getting my first spanking at the hands of Mark Callaway, someone who rarely found it necessary to dish out a spanking to a younger superstar. I must have really upset him, even disappointed him – it was too much to bear.

"I don't know what in the world possessed you to come out and disrupt _my match_," Mark lectured in between spanks, "but if it ever happens again, you will be feeling my belt."

An extra hard swat landed on my sit spots, causing an anguished cry to escape my lips. I couldn't help it, it _hurt_. He paused and looked down at my tear-stained face.

"You are a good kid, John," he said, "a good kid with a bright future ahead of you. I am _not_ going to let you screw it up by pulling stupid stunts like the one you pulled tonight." He resumed spanking. "I'm guessing Mike lured you into this. I know he's your friend, but you need to learn to make the right decisions and not follow his faulty example." I was sobbing now, and I guess he decided I was reaching my limit, because he swatted only every few seconds. "Anything you'd like to say?"

"I'M SO S-SORRY!" I sobbed. "P-please forgive m-me!"

I could almost feel him smile. Suddenly my wrestling attire was back in place and I was settled onto his large arms, feeling like a small child. I didn't care; all I wanted was the comfort that was being thrust upon me so freely. I cried and cried, but I was shocked to realize that I no longer felt so guilty. It seemed that the spanking had actually done some good.

"You're not going to cause any more trouble, huh?" Mark said, looking me in the eye. I nodded confidently. He smiled, "I doubt your friend Mike will be trying to trick you into mischief for quite some time – my brother will make sure of it."

We both chuckled. It was going to be an interesting night.

**TO BE CONTINUED. **

**WHAT'S MIKE'S SPANKING GOING TO BE LIKE? WILL HE BEHAVE? OR WILL HE TRY AND FIGHT OFF THE BIG RED MONSTER?**

~Rebecca


End file.
